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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235600">time is short and we are infinite</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gael_itarille/pseuds/gael_itarille'>gael_itarille</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bookstores, Drabble, Fluff, Multi, Reader-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:34:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gael_itarille/pseuds/gael_itarille</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The bookstore smells of old print, feels of rough pages and dry ink underneath your fingertips."</p><p>you wander an old bookshop with your lover in tow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kise Ryouta/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>time is short and we are infinite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The first knb fic i've written! The anime is such a good watch, and kise (and the rest of the gom) has wormed his way into my fanfiction heart. </p><p>Enjoy! xx</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bookstore smells of old print, feels of rough pages and dry ink underneath your fingertips.</p><p>It's worn ground; the carpet fairly tread till the fibres twist up, reaching for stained shelves with chipped varnish- garnering dust instead. </p><p>You pull a book from the rack to place it on top of the growing pile balanced on your left arm: paperback on hardcover, side-stiched on sewn-bound.</p><p>Sunlight filters through the gaps in the literature selections- where people have read and continued; exchanged bills for the memory of a person across the shore. There are rectangular spaced slots in the shelves, but the shop is full. </p><p>The book you're holding talks of coffee- looks like it too, with the caramel-coloured patch on its dust cover, the weaker edges of the paper crinkled. </p><p>You make your way towards the back of the catalogue. You sidestep lived-in armchairs and loved loveseats- privy to stories of romance from the couple that might live across the block and novels half-read; left lying open face down. </p><p>Shielded by vintage oak, Kise sits- basking under the shuttered window to his right; lightly stirring his coffee with a tarnished silver spoon.</p><p>Two disposable thimbles of creamer lie empty beside him. He's crumpled the plastic, stacked them together to fit in the centre of his saucer. </p><p>In his beverage, the creamer is fully incorporated; the mug's contents an even shade of brown. Still, he moves his wrist in circular motions; ear tilted to listen to the soft tinkling of the utensil against porcelain. </p><p>You think he's noticed you since you rounded the corner, but he takes another moment to himself (and you wait and watch; the peace is welcome) before glancing up to greet you.</p><p>He wears a mellow smile - one spurred by the languid afternoon- and holds out his hand as you approach; open palm for yours to slide in. </p><p>Ryouta scoots over on his chair to make room for you, humming as you set your books on the table and nestle in beside him.</p><p>The seat's upholstery is velvet, graying somewhat but still just as soft. He resumes his sightseeing in the window, and you meet his gaze in the reflections on the glass.</p><p>You murmur his name against the shell of his ear. He leans into you, shirt wrinkling with the movement, and mutters a gentle 'hi' in response. </p><p>Ryouta lets his eyes flutter shut. </p><p>Forearms tickled by his hair as you extend over him to grab the first of your books, you settle into the calm with ease.</p><p>You decide to start fresh, flipping to the beginning of your read.</p><p>
  <em> Chapter One. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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